


About A Black

by p0stScriptum



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boy-Who-Lived Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter is a brat, James and Sirius are Aurors, Language, Lily teaches Muggle Studies, OC son - Freeform, Original Character(s), Peter is bestselling author, The Potters Live, With A Twist, werewolf benefactor Remus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 10:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5124098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p0stScriptum/pseuds/p0stScriptum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius Black may be a pretty good uncle and godfather (if he may say so himself) to his best mate’s son, but he wasn’t cut out to be a father. He never planned on it, and he sure as Hell isn’t ready to raise a child. He doesn’t want to get married and have kids. He’s fine with the way his life is. Happy, even. Never better. Besides, he’s got important Auror duties now. None of this changes that fact that he just became the guardian to a nine year old son he never knew he had.</p><p>Alternatively...</p><p>Granted, he was never normal. But things used to make a lot more sense. He didn't know which deity he had somehow pissed off, though whatever he'd done must have been really bad. Because he has just been left in the care of Sirius Black.</p>
            </blockquote>





	About A Black

**Author's Note:**

> Keep in mind this is a fanfic set in an Alternate Universe, so I’m exercising the right to do whatever I want with this story.

There are an infinite number of realities. Alternate timelines. Parallel universes. The possibilities are endless.

The story you are familiar with goes something like this: Harry James Potter, born on July 31st of 1980, is only a toddler when Lord Voldemort enters Godric’s Hallow on Halloween night and murders his parents. Harry is left with a lightning bolt scar on his forehead, and Voldemort’s body is destroyed by a rebounded killing curse. From that night on, Harry Potter is known as the Boy Who Lived. Harry is sent to live with his unpleasant Muggle relatives, attends Hogwarts once he turns eleven, and later grows up to become Savior of the Wizarding World and Vanquisher of the Dark Lord.

But we all know Harry Potter’s story. There is no use in recounting a tale already told.

So, let’s turn our attention to a different reality, one in which the Potters were not killed that night by Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter did not become the Boy Who Lived. That unfortunate title fell upon orphaned Neville Longbottom. The Potters lived, but the Longbottoms did not. Alice Longbottom was the one who sacrificed herself for her child, not Lily Potter. Neville grew up with a lightning bolt scar on his forehead, not Harry.

How did this happen? Well, there are many reasons. Perhaps, Peter Pettigrew’s successful writing career alleviated the resentment he might have felt towards his admittedly more talented and popular friends; therefore he did not seek to betray them. Maybe it was Severus Snape and Lily Potter nee Evans’ reconciliation that ultimately worked in the Potters’ favor when Severus became a spy for the Light. Perchance, Sirius Black’s decision to remain the Potters’ secret keeper despite the dangers is what saved them. Or, it could have been simply that Voldemort chose the Longbottoms rather than the Potters. In the end, the cause is not as important as the effect.

Much happened in the years following Voldemort’s supposed vanquish.

Peter Pettigrew became quite the famous bestselling author. His novel series earned him a gaggle of fans all across the globe, and he garnered a fortune, becoming known as one of the most successful wizards of the age. The stuttering lump of a boy he’d been in school was a far cry from the man Pettigrew grew to be.

Contrariwise, Remus Lupin continued to live a hard but ultimately happy quiet life with the support of his friends and moonlighted (pun intended) as a benefactor for other, more misfortunate, werewolves.

Meanwhile, best friends James Potter and Sirius Black (who never went to Azkaban for a crime he did not commit) became Aurors. Eventually, Sirius claimed 12 Grimmauld Place after his mother’s death and refurbished it. James and Lily moved into the Potter Manor to start their family. After five years, Lily finally accepted a teaching position as the Muggle Studies instructor at Hogwarts, working alongside her longtime friend Severus Snape the Potions Master, under the condition that she is able to travel to and from Hogwarts and Potter Manor freely every day.

Things were good. The Wizarding World was peaceful, mostly. Everything was great. Except everything wasn’t great. Voldemort may have been gone for the time being, but all was not well in the Wizarding World. The repercussions of the war were still being felt. A couple murdered Muggle families here, some missing Ministry representatives there, and suspicious Dark wizard activity were all swept under the proverbial rug. Something nefarious lurked in the shadows. But that’s a story for another time, because our attention is directed towards something far more urgent.

The grown-up Marauders were enjoying life. All their dreams had come true. James had married Lily. Sirius had made a life of his own. Remus had graduated school, made friends, and was now helping others with his condition. And Peter had gained the recognition he’d always desired. However, life was about to change for our favorite Marauders.

Our story starts in the year of 1989.

* * *

Sirius would be the first to admit that he is irresponsible sometimes and reckless most of the time. He can be inappropriate and arrogant, but he is also charming. He’s a bold Gryffindor at heart and proud of it. He’s a lot of things. An Auror. A Marauder. A ladies’ man. A best friend. And a proud uncle.

But the one thing Sirius isn’t, the one thing he has never wanted to be, the one thing he just couldn’t be, is a father.

He seats himself across from the child at a booth inside his favorite breakfast shop in Diagon Alley. The kid blinks up at him with those big blue eyes, and Sirius doesn’t know what to do or say, feeling suddenly ridiculously out of his depth, so he waves the waiter over.

How the Hell did he get here?

* * *

Samantha Foley. A beautiful Hufflepuff girl who had been two years ahead of the Marauders in Hogwarts. She’d been in Auror training with Sirius and James. Last he’d heard, she had transferred to a new division and become a Hit Wizard. Sirius hasn’t thought about her in years, and she probably would have continued to be a forgotten memory if his coworker hadn’t just given him a letter sent by her to his Auror office.

Bertram Aubrey was a decent coworker on friendly terms with everyone in the office, despite the fact that James and Sirius once pranked him in school by hexing his head to grow twice its normal size (hey, let bygones be and all that), but he was a paper-pusher at best. That’s why they had given him the job of passing out mail. Sirius was sitting at his desk going over files when Aubrey came by his cubicle.

“Black, you got mail.”

Sirius hadn’t bothered to look up from the papers. “If it’s from Peter, I’ll pass. He keeps sending me tickets to his book signings.”

“Nah, it’s from some chick. A Shannon or Sandy something. Foley I think.”

This perked Sirius’ attention. “Samantha Foley?” he’d asked.

Sure, he may not think about her often anymore, but he remembers her now. Just hearing her last name brings it all back. She had been a firecracker. And gorgeous. “Sinfully cute” he had liked to say. The guys in training had been competing doggedly for her attention, but she paid them no mind. Unfortunately, she’d been off-limits because she was devoted to her American Muggle boyfriend. This only made Sirius want her more, though. It had taken a lot of effort, but he eventually won her over. Only once. They never spoke of their little fling again, and that had been close to ten years ago.

What reason would she have to reach out to him? Did she finally break things off with the Muggle and want a rebound?

Aubrey squints at the words printed in the corner of the letter. “Yeah. S’what it says here.”

Sirius sets aside his work. “Alright,” he says, holding out his hand expectantly, “hand it over.”

Aurbrey obediently gives him the letter and walks off to deliver the rest of the mail. Sirius curiously inspects the letter very clearly addressed to him in plain bold lettering:

**Mr. Sirius Orion Black**

**Desk 8**

**The Auror Office**

**Level 2**

**Ministry of Magic**

**London**

“Hm.” He looks up, glancing side to side, on the lookout for the surly supervisor. Everyone is at their work-stations, minding their own business. “Okay, then,” Sirius mutters to himself.

He pulls the letter out of the envelope, unfolds it and reads:

_Dear Sirius,_

_What I’m about to tell you will come as a shock, I expect. Please hear me out. I am in desperate need of your help._

_Three months ago my husband was killed in an explosion at a Muggle Police Department, leaving me widowed and alone to take care of my nine year old son. I am certain that my husband’s death was no accident. Recently, I put away a corrupt Ministry official who had been taking bribes from a wealthy individual. The case had immediately been closed with no further investigation. This struck me as strange, so I did my own digging. The explosion occurred only a few days after I learned the name of the mysterious sponsor. I’m sure you understand the severity of the situation in which I have found myself._

_I remain steadfast against endangering a third party such as yourself unless, of course, it is absolutely necessary. If you are readings this, then it can only mean that I am either dead or in critical condition at St. Mungos. Therefore, I have a request._

_Look after my boy._

_I know this is unfair to you, Sirius, but the truth is that he is your son. I named him Daniel Antares Taggard. I am sorry for not telling you sooner. I thought it would be better if you never knew. You didn’t seem much_ _like_ _the fatherly type back then and I was sure you wouldn’t want him._

_My boy has no one else. I am an orphan, and my husband had no family left except his elderly Muggle father who is a resident in a Muggle nursing home. Please take care of him, Sirius. He means the world to me._

_Sam_

Sirius stares at the letter in his hands for an indescribable amount of time, reading and re-reading it, tracing his gaze over the curvy handwriting, imprinting the words into his brain, until James walks by on the way back to his cubicle from the bathroom.

“Hey, Padfoot, what’s up with you? You look really pale.”

James’ voice jogs Sirius back to attention. He clutches the letter closer when James tries to snatch it from his hands.

His best friend frowns at him. “What’s that?” James asks, pointing at the letter, suspicious.

Sirius tucks the letter into his pocket and stands. “Nothing,” he replies distractedly, quickly putting his folders away and shoving his chair under his desk.

“What are you doing?”

He grabs his jacket. “I’m taking my lunch break.”

“Wha – but lunch isn’t for another hour!”

“Bye.”

Sirius weaves around desks and heads towards the office’s entrance. He hears James sputter and chase after him, but a conveniently aimed jelly-legs jinx gives him enough time to disappear.

* * *

He rushes to St. Mungos, flashes his badge at the receptionist, and demands to know if Samantha Foley has been admitted to the hospital.

“Oh, Auror Black. We’ve been expecting you,” the receptionist woman calmly replies.

He falters. “You have?”

She smiles genially. “Of course, dear. You’re listed as Mrs. Foley’s emergency contact.”

“I am?”

This is news to Sirius. When and why had she made him her emergency contact? Surely she has someone else. And if he is Samantha’s emergency contact why hasn’t he gotten an official notice from St. Mungo’s yet?

“Up you go, young man. Fourth floor, Intensive Care Unit, room one hundred and thirty-seven.”

The Intensive Care Unit is for those who have sustained major injuries or spell damage that is actively threatening their survival. Only the worst cases become Intensive Care patients. It’s not uncommon for wizards sent into Intensive Care not to make it. Most times it’d take a miracle to save them. Those suffering poisonings, dark hexes, and fatal wounds go here. Usually the patients need immediate attention. Those who the healers manage to heal get transferred to the Recovery Unit. But there are those hopeless cases with extended stays in the ICU. The Healers do what they can to make the patients’ last moments as painless as possible.

Sirius has a hunch Samantha isn’t heading towards recovery. His hunch gains more and more credence as he nears Samantha’s room, passing one open room in which a man is throwing up his insides (probably courtesy of the entrails vomiting curse) and another in which a person with sickening charred skin is rolling on the floor surrounded by Healers casting continuous sprays of water on him in attempts to put out the flames. The poor saps. Sirius wishes St. Mungo’s would start putting up doors on the patients’ rooms.

Finally, he finds room 137, just in time to witness a medi-witch pulling the covers over a prone figure on the bed. He catches a glimpse of pale skin and curly dark hair before the white sheet is completely shrouding her body.

He was too late.

“Excuse me,” he addresses the medi-witch.

The medi-witch looks up at him from where she’d been scribbling information down on the papers pinned to her clipboard.

“Oh, hello Mr. Black,” she greets solemnly. “I am sorry. It’s a tragedy is all I can say. You just missed her. She wouldn’t take any visitors but you. Insisted on it. Poor girl couldn’t hold out any longer, though.”

“Do you know what she wanted to say to me? Did she mention anything? Write something down, maybe?”

The medi-witch shook her head. “I’m sorry. No. She could hardly breathe for the last few minutes, let alone speak or write.”

Sirius sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly. Okay. He cannot freak out right now. Yelling will not help. The best way to handle this situation is to treat it like an investigation.

He asks, “What killed her?”

“Poison. Magic activated. We couldn’t cure her for as long as the castor was still fueling the magic.”

“And obviously it never stopped,” he concluded. “Not until she was dead.”

For a long, horrible minute, Sirius can only stare at the covered body on the bed. Samantha Foley. The firecracker of a woman he had once known. Gone. It didn't seem feasible. And how she must have suffered... Then he remembers the letter in his pocket, and suddenly he feels like a bucket of ice water has been poured over him.

“She had a son,” he says hurriedly. “Is he alright? Where is he?”

He is deeply relieved when the medi-witch answers, “Ms. Foley’s son is in the waiting room, Mr. Black.”

However, after the relief passes, he feels only dread.

 


End file.
